


haircut

by youaremarvelous



Series: Yuri!!! on Ice Tumblr Drabbles [8]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Depression, Drabble, Haircuts, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 03:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13650081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youaremarvelous/pseuds/youaremarvelous
Summary: If someone had asked Viktor when he was twenty and spending his days training himself ragged on the rink, his nights grinding against attractive strangers, whether or not he was happy, he would say that he is.At least, he’s not not happy, so what was the difference?





	haircut

**Author's Note:**

> for the [five word prompts](http://youremarvelous.tumblr.com/post/170585148223/five-word-prompts), "great. perfect. nice. fuck this."

If someone had asked Viktor when he was twenty and spending his days training himself ragged on the rink, his nights grinding against attractive strangers, whether or not he was happy, he would say that he is.

 

At least, he’s not  _not_  happy, so what was the difference?

 

He sits on his couch early one Saturday morning—knees to his chest—last night’s eyeliner crusted under his eyes. He coils his hair around one finger and thinks of the stranger’s hands gripped in it last night—pulling it hard, taut enough to jerk Viktor’s neck back and expose his Adam’s apple—and the alcohol-soaked voice in his ear, “your hair’s so sexy, baby. Never cut it.”

 

‘ _Great_ ,” Viktor thinks. He explodes from the couch in one fluid motion and stomps to the bathroom. There are scissors in his hand, the source of which he’s not certain. It’s all a blur of muscle memory and repressed emotions and desperately dry eyes: the last few moments, the last few years.

 

‘ _Perfect_.’ Viktor’s heart is in his throat. Something pushes against him from all sides, something he can’t name but feels like death. He yanks aside a skein of hair—matted from god knows what—and shears into it. Not in one fluid motion like in the movies, but erratically, over and over, unburdening his bruised scalp in jagged silver segments.

 

“ _Nice_ ,” he thinks, watching hunks of hair fall to the porcelain sink, the floor. “ _Fuck this_.”

 

Reality doesn’t set in for a few hours. Viktor sits on the closed toilet seat, head bowed in his hands, chest heaving. He tries to cry. He thinks of all the people who’ve used him, Makkachin’s inevitable death, how he built up this empire of gold medals and empty smiles, only to fester away alone in it, but the tears won’t come.

 

Viktor hides his hair under a beanie the next day, his face behind sunglasses. He has his hair professionally fixed so it looks intentional and delivers a flawless interview about shedding one’s past and evolving as an individual and skater a week later.

 

In private, he studies his hair in the mirror— the newly shorn ends curling around his cheekbones, not yet acclimated to being shorter, lighter—and promises himself he’ll change.

 

Something has to give because he’s not happy, but he desperately wants to be.

 

+

 

“Are you sure this is okay?” Yuuri looks at the reflection of Viktor’s eyes in the bathroom mirror. He mindlessly combs his fingers through Viktor’s hair, scratches his nails up and down his scalp, massages little circles into Viktor’s nape with his thumbs.

 

Viktor looks up at Yuuri. He leans his head back on Yuuri’s shoulder, presses a kiss into his cheek. “It’s just a trim, lyubov moya.”

 

Yuuri huffs and meets Viktor’s lips. He kisses him twice—soft, at first, then deeper, a little laugh skirting the edge when he pulls away. “I want it on the record that this was your idea and I strongly advised against it.”

 

“It’s fine,” Viktor turns back around and winks at Yuuri in the mirror. “It’ll grow back.”

 

The trim isn’t perfect, but it’s okay because Viktor isn’t either. He’s happy, though, watching Yuuri section his hair with care—tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he cuts off near miniscule increments of Viktor’s ends.

 

He’s happy. This time he knows it for sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Rebloggable [here](http://youremarvelous.tumblr.com/post/170657754783/for-the-prompt-meme-great-perfect-nice-fuck)


End file.
